


I never saw the signs

by biblionerd07



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Lack of Communication, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Bitty, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Use Your Words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 07:52:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3802573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biblionerd07/pseuds/biblionerd07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bitty gets asked out on a date, but he's already spoken for. It wouldn't be a problem, really, except he didn't <i>know</i> he was already spoken for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I never saw the signs

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Chris Rice's "When Did You Fall (in Love With Me)." This is coming from the fact that our dear sweet Eric Richard Bittle does not see that Jack is desperately in love with him, even though even aliens can see that boy's heart eyes all the way from space.

Eric’s sitting in the library across from Jack, trying to memorize the bones of the human skull (why are there so _many_?) while Jack mutters under his breath in French and pushes buttons on his computer. It’s some editing for his photography class, that’s all Eric knows, and Lardo was here earlier helping him but she had to go to the studio (leaving with a wink and a smirk and a “Behave yourselves, boys,” that made Eric blush and give her a dark look, hoping Jack didn’t notice) and Jack’s frown’s been getting deeper and deeper ever since she left.

Eric stretches and rolls his shoulders and Jack glances up from his computer. One side of his mouth lifts up a little and Eric wills his face not to blush. Jack’s been working on his facial expressions lately, trying to make himself less of a robot and more accessible to other people. He’s doing a great job, really, even if it sometimes makes Eric’s chest hurt with longing because he sees expressions on Jack’s face he wants to mean more than they possibly can from Jack, who simply doesn’t realize what kinds of looks he’s giving.

“Ready for a break?” Jack asks.

Eric shrugs, forcing nonchalance. “If you are,” he answers, like his brain hasn’t been trying to beat itself against his parietal bone for the last twenty minutes. He glances down at the diagram in his notes. Heh, score, he remembered that one.

“Let’s go get coffee,” Jack suggests, already closing his computer before Eric can answer. “You can even get one of those pumpkin ones you like so much.”

Eric rolls his eyes, laughing a little. “Those are _seasonal_ , Jack, and that season ain’t spring.” He lets his drawl run a little, even as he braces for the inevitable chirp.

“Oh, it _ain’t_ , eh?” Jack says, predictably, a little smirk on his lips making Eric’s stomach swoop. “Well, what’s in season during the spring?”

“Annie’s actually has some pretty good sweet tea,” Eric admits. “Not as good as my mama’s, of course.”

“Of course,” Jack agrees solemnly, only the twitch of his lips giving him away. Eric throws a pencil at him and Jack laughs as he catches it easily. This boy and his reflexes.

“Give that back,” Eric commands.

Jack scrunches up his nose in a way that makes Eric want to lie down on the ground for a little while. “But you threw it at me.”

“Well, it’s the only one I have, and I’m not done marking my diagram yet.”

Jack laughs again, an easy, happy sound that makes Eric feel light. Jack doesn’t laugh enough. “You threw away your only pencil. Not a wise strategy.”

Eric musters up a glare, even though he just wants to let his face split into the grin that reflects how he feels inside. “Jack Zimmermann, don’t make me fight you for that pencil.”

Jack raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really?” He leans back in his chair and Eric almost can’t breathe with the sudden mental image of sitting in his lap. “Bring it on then, Bittle.”

Eric gulps a little, despite his bold words, but before he can do anything someone calls out, “Hey, Eric!” across the room. It’s a kid named Sam, who sits next to Eric in his English class. He’s a nice guy; funny, outgoing, well-liked by pretty much everyone, and he’s not exactly an eyesore, either, even if he doesn’t have a hockey butt. Not that Eric compares every guy he meets to—well. Anyone.

“Oh, hi Sam,” Eric says absentmindedly, still watching Jack. He’s twirling Eric’s pencil teasingly between his fingers and Eric narrows his eyes as menacingly as he can.

“So, did you finish the final paper?” Sam asks once he gets closer. Eric reluctantly pulls his eyes away from Jack, because Mama Bittle would be mortified if she ever found out he was rude and didn’t look at someone during a conversation. Even if she’d probably agree that Jack’s not easy to look away from. _Not_ that Eric would ever mention that to her.

Eric gives Sam a smile. “I sure did. Finished it up on Monday so I could study for my anatomy final, because goodness knows I’m going to need all the time I can get for that.”

Sam laughs. “Oh, man, I could never take anatomy. So much memorizing! I always knew you were smart.”

Eric guffaws a little. “Well, let’s not count our chickens before they hatch. Haven’t taken the final yet.” He turns to look at Jack. “Sam, this is my friend Jack. Jack, Sam. We’re in the same English class.”

“Hi,” Jack says, putting on a strange sort of grimace that’s probably supposed to be a smile. Random people can come and ask for autographs and Jack will blush but at least smile like a human, but being actually introduced to people is a constant struggle.

“Oh, boy, Jack Zimmermann? I mean, of course I knew you were on the hockey team, but wow. I’m a big Penguins fan. You know, I noticed at a few games that you and your dad don’t play much alike.”

Eric almost cringes. Jack’s relaxed a lot this semester, but still. Bringing up Bob and comparing them right off the bat, while not exactly something Jack isn’t used to, isn’t the quickest way to Jack’s heart.

“Well, Jack doesn’t play much alike to anybody,” Eric says quickly. “He’s a one of a kind that way.” Lord, what’s he even saying right now? It must be alright, though, because Jack’s smiling at him and all the air wants to leave his lungs because Jack’s eyes are just so… _warm_.

“What about you?” Sam asks, grinning at Eric. “You one of a kind, too?”

Eric laughs a little. “Oh, probably, though a kind of what I’m not sure I want to know.”

Sam leans a hip against the table. “A one of a kind work of art, I think.”

Jack snorts. And it’s loud. Eric feels his face heating up. Not only is it possible Sam is flirting (badly) with him, but Jack’s right there to witness the whole thing. The chirps will never end.

“Oh, um,” Eric responds ever so eloquently. “Well. Thank you.”

“Would you want to go out sometime?” Sam goes in for the kill. Eric’s eyes, traitorous organs that they are, flit to Jack. He should not look at Jack when a different guy just asked him out. Jack’s got a little crease between his eyebrows as he watches the exchange, and he catches Eric looking at him. His face is unreadable.

“Goodness,” Eric says, hands flitting a little. He feels so off-balance, what with the flirting and Jack sitting right there and the lingering fluttering in his stomach from Jack’s earlier challenge. “Well, I—I’d like to but…I just mean with finals, and all…time might be tight.”

Sam nods a few times, smiling easily. He pulls a pen out of his pocket and scribbles his phone number right over the diagram’s squamous suture. “Go ahead and give me a call if you find the time,” he says. He winks, and then he walks away.

Eric blows out a breath, blushing so fiercely he can almost feel his pulse in his cheeks. Jack puts the pencil on the table.

“I gotta go,” he mumbles, standing up.

“What?” Eric asks.

“I need Lardo’s help with this project,” Jack says, fumbling with his backpack and not looking at Eric. “See ya.”

Eric stands there, confused, as Jack practically flees the library.

  
Jack’s avoiding him, that much is obvious. They’ve spent pretty much every day together the entire year, barring holidays, and especially this last semester. They study together almost every day. Jack often comes in and watches Eric bake, sometimes talking, sometimes showing off his photos, sometimes just sitting quietly. Eric usually finds himself leaning against the bathroom doorway as Jack brushes his teeth, finishing up a conversation they’d been having before Jack’s old man routine led him to his oral hygiene regiment.

But suddenly Jack’s scarce. Eric hasn’t seen him since yesterday in the library and the awkward encounter with Sam. Lardo came back to the Haus a few hours after the Sam Incident, as Eric’s taken to calling it, but said she hadn’t seen Jack since she left them at the library. He didn’t even come home either night to go to bed at eleven like he always did. And everyone keeps asking Eric where Jack is, like he’s supposed to know, a painful reminder that they’ve gotten close but not in the way Eric wishes they could be. Not that he isn't happy being friends, of course, but a boy can dream sometimes, alone in his room and listening to sappy love songs.

Eric’s washing dishes alone at midnight, maybe slamming pots down harder than necessary, even though really, he has no real right to be mad at Jack. So he suddenly changed his routine without warning Eric first—it’s not like he owes Eric any kind of explanation. Plus, finals are creeping up, not to mention Jack’s graduation. He’s just signed, too, so he probably has paperwork to fill out and maybe even PR things to square away.

Eric’s taking it personal, which is always the danger of falling for someone you can’t have. He’s let his feelings for Jack run wild with all the time they’ve spent together, and now he’s paying the price.

A throat clears behind him, and Eric jumps, taken by surprise. He whirls around. Jack’s standing there, backpack still on, his mouth pushed to one side the way it does when he’s upset about something.

“Jack!” Eric says. “Lord, you scared me.”

Something flashes in Jack’s eyes, too quick for Eric to parse through it, and then he bites his lip. “Um, so. Shitty says I have to talk about my feelings if I have them. I mean… _when_ I have them. Because I _do_ have feelings and they’re as valid as anyone else’s.”

Eric holds in a smile. That definitely rings of Shitty. “Okay?” He says, a little confused. He’s not quite sure why Jack chose him to confide in. They’ve been spending a lot of time together, yes, but it seems like he’d go to Shitty about his feelings, especially since they’ve already discussed Jack’s need to share.

“I guess I just thought it meant as much to you,” Jack murmurs. And he looks sad, _hurt_ , enough that Eric dries off his hands and takes a few steps closer. “So I don’t get why…with that guy in the library.”

Eric waits, but Jack doesn’t elaborate. “Um, I’m gonna need more to go off of here,” Eric admits apologetically.

Jack pushes a hand through his hair, not meeting Eric’s eyes. “Did you think you were protecting me or something? It can’t really be public, probably, at this stage, but you said you’d like to go out with him. Are you mad at me because it can't be public?”

Eric is completely lost. He feels like they’re having two separate conversations. “Jack, I don’t really know what you’re saying. Protecting you from what? What can’t be public?”

Jack shakes his head. “Us, Bittle. _Eric_. This.” He motions between them and Eric feels like he missed a step going downstairs, his stomach jolting at Jack using his first name before he scolds his brain to quit jumping to conclusions he wishes were true.

“This what?” He breathes, wishing his voice was stronger. Now Jack looks up, face twisting in hurt and confusion.

“Well, us,” he says, like it’s obvious. “Our.” He shrugs. “Relationship?”

“Our friendship?” Eric asks, refusing to let himself feel the ache over Jack using the word _relationship_ when talking about both of them. If only.  
  
Jack blinks a few times. “Do you _not_ want to date me?”

Eric sits down. He just sits straight down on the floor. Jack looks a little alarmed. “Are you okay?”

“Do _you_ want to date _me_?” Eric squeaks a little as he says it. Jack’s mouth drops open a centimeter or two.

“I thought I already was,” he says. A hysterical, wheezing laugh rips out of Eric’s mouth, and now Jack _really_ looks worried. He crouches beside Eric. “Take a deep breath,” he instructs, his hand big and warm on Eric’s back, and Eric lets out that weird, screamy laugh again. He kind of sounds like a cartoon villain.

“You thought we were dating?” Eric checks, voice strangled. Jack’s forehead wrinkles with confusion.

“Well, yeah. I mean. We’ve been going on dates for weeks now. Froyo, coffee, studying in the library, walks around the lake…” He trails off. “You didn’t—those weren’t dates?”

“Jack, I had no idea you _wanted_ them to be dates. I thought we were just…hanging out. Being friends.”

Horror crosses over Jack’s face and he pulls his hand away from Eric’s back so fast it seems like there should’ve been sound effects. “Oh my God.” He stumbles away from Eric, face bright red. “Sorry. I thought—sorry.”

Eric throws out an arm and snatches Jack’s wrist before he can get too far away. Jack’s eyes are big, worried, and Eric laughs out loud. His stomach is fizzing giddily. “Jack, I didn’t know they were dates but _I_ wanted them to be.”

Jack stills. “Yeah?”

Eric laughs again, because he’s so relieved and so _happy_. Jack wants to date him. Jack thought they were _already dating_. He laughs and laughs until he’s in tears of mirth. Jack frowns.

“I feel like you’re laughing _at_ me,” he huffs a little grumpily, and it makes Eric laugh harder because this is Jack Zimmermann and he is absolutely _ridiculous_ and he is, apparently, Eric’s boyfriend of several weeks and Eric can’t remember the last time he felt this ecstatic.

“You thought,” Eric gasps. “You thought you didn’t have to—” He has to pause for breath. “You thought you didn’t have to tell me you were taking me on dates?”

Jack sits down so he’s not awkwardly crouching anymore, making his backpack bunch up a little. A smile’s tugging at his lips, but he still gives Eric a dirty look. “Half the time _you_ were asking _me_. I thought we were on the same page.”

“Bless your heart,” Eric says, still chuckling a little. “Jack Zimmermann, I was not wrong when I said you're one of a kind. We've always hung out like that. How was I supposed to know it was any different?”

Jack scoffs a little. “Okay, I should've said something, but what about you, Mr. Oblivious?” He accuses. “I’ve been throwing myself at you for like three weeks. Literally everyone else noticed and thought we were together, too.”

Eric laughs again, stomach hurting from all the hysterics. “I don’t know!” He pauses, thinking over the past few weeks. Okay, yes, Jack's been paying for everything, and he _has_ been smiling at Eric more, and he’s been hugging Eric a lot, too, and oh, boy, that really puts some of the things Eric had written off as weird Jack Zimmermann idiosyncrasies into a new perspective, not to mention everyone else’s comments lately.

“Oh,” Eric says. “So when you said my squats were working…”

Now it’s Jack’s turn to laugh. “How did you think I meant that?”

Eric shrugs, grinning sheepishly. “Just from, you know, a captain standpoint. Like I was doing something right in my workouts.”

Jack shakes his head, chuckling, and Eric feels like his heart’s going to burst out of his chest. This is happening. This is _real_. He’s awake right now and Jack is sitting here beside him on the kitchen floor and they’re talking about how Jack genuinely, seriously, actually _like_ likes Eric. Romantically.

“But wait,” Eric says, his tone bordering on accusing. “Three weeks and we never kissed and you still thought I knew we were dating?” He’s blushing a little, now, because he’s definitely thought a lot about kissing Jack.

Jack ducks his head a little and shrugs, his own blush spreading across his cheeks. “Well, I don’t know. I never really felt like you were hinting at it. And I didn’t mind taking things slow. I _don’t_ mind. I don’t even mind if you never want to do…anything.” He’s blushing harder now, unable to look at Eric. “I’m happy just spending time with you.”

He mumbles it, but they’re sitting close together enough that it comes through loud and clear, and Eric wants to laugh again and maybe cry a little. He’s got bubbles in his chest from how happy he is. He just looks at Jack for a minute, looks at the way he’s hunching his shoulders awkwardly and thinks about how patient Jack is and how wonderful it is to feel like he can set the pace here.

He doesn’t know how to do this, not really. He’s kissed two guys and even one girl, at a New Year’s party in high school, but he’s never actually been in a relationship with anyone. Jack’s not as experienced as everyone thinks and the rumors suggest—Eric knows that now, after getting to know Jack, and suddenly he understands why Jack had _that_ conversation with him last week—but he’s still older, worldlier, and Eric swallows hard.

Jack says he’s happy just spending time with Eric, but how long can that last? Eric _wants_ to kiss Jack, wants to sleep together literally and metaphorically (oh, does he), but what if he does and Jack doesn’t like it? What if he’s bad at it?

Jack finally peeks up at Eric and must see his distress on his face. He takes Eric’s hand and fits their fingers together, making butterflies kick up in Eric’s stomach. “I don’t mind,” he repeats softly. “I really don’t. I’ve never really gone slow when it comes to…this.” He waves a hand between them like he did at the start of this conversation. “But I feel like maybe, um, going slow means, you know, you get to…” He shrugs, blushing and looking away embarrassedly. “Savor it.”

Eric shakes his head a little, feeling so full of emotions he’s going to combust. He just really is. He puts his free hand on Jack’s face, strokes his thumb across Jack’s very prominent zygomatic arch, and smiles at the way Jack’s breath hitches just a little at the touch.

“I’d like to savor this,” he whispers, looking Jack right in the eye. “But do you think three weeks is slow enough for a kiss?”

A slow smile spreads across Jack’s face. “I don’t know,” he starts, that tone in his voice that means he’s chirping. “You didn’t even realize we were dating. We might have to go _really_ slow for you.”

Eric rolls his eyes and huffs. He slips an arm under Jack's backpack and around his waist, leans in close and lets Jack decide if he wants to close the gap. Jack's eyes flit back and forth between Eric’s for a second, searching his face, before he does. They kiss on the kitchen floor, Betsy as their witness, and Eric sighs a little. It’s the best make-up to a first fight in a relationship he didn’t know he was in he can possibly think of.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * ["I Feel" Statements](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7151027) by [CandyCains](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CandyCains/pseuds/CandyCains)
  * [[PODFIC] I never saw the signs (biblionerdo7)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8006371) by [jammytoast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jammytoast/pseuds/jammytoast)




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